


A Little Tender Loving Care

by Sketchyfletch



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, Grinding, Massage, Oral Sex, Other, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 12:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sketchyfletch/pseuds/Sketchyfletch
Summary: After the events of Book XI (v mild dialogue spoilers, no plot spoilers), Nadia is more tense than ever, and you want to help her relax. You more than succeed.





	A Little Tender Loving Care

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Nadia. Female MC. Gets pretty descriptive. Yes it's more Nadia porn, I have a problem.

_“You know she likes to be in charge. She doesn’t like doormats, though. Don’t be afraid to stand up for youself.”_

Asra’s words have been tickling through your head ever since Nadia bid you goodbye for the evening, and you have to wonder if what you’re doing bore any resemblance to what he was actually suggesting. No doubt he would be amused, but you have no intention of letting him know how you decided to follow through. You adjust the roll of towels and bottle under your arm as you walk through the palace, thankfully avoiding both witnesses and questions until you end up in front of the door to Nadia’s chambers. Hoping that she has returned and that nobody else is there, you knock quickly. Your hand is shaking a little.

For a long moment, it seems that there will be no reply, but then there is the click of a latch and the door opens. Nadia, already dressed in her sleeping robe, gazes at you with obvious confusion. “My magician – is everything all right?”

You nod, finding your words. “I wanted to see you.”

It’s the first time you’ve come to her without being summoned first, and after astonishment clears her eyes, a smile touches her lips. “How sweet of you, my dear. You are always welcome.” She steps aside to admit you, and takes in what you’re carrying. “What are those for?”

You wait until the door is closed before replying, and clear your throat, wondering if she’s about to laugh you right back out of the room – or worse, be offended. “I know you’ve had to deal with a lot, over the past few days. Suspicions of courtiers, of your friends, Nasmira arriving unannounced-” Nadia’s mouth thins, and you hurry on. “Whatever’s happening with Lucio. I wanted to…take care of you.”

That banishes the tension from her jaw quickly, and her gaze softens. “You truly are kind-hearted. But you don’t have to-”

“I want to.” The interruption is bold, and she is surprised by it – but thankfully, amused. You put the cherry on top of the cake. “Please.”

“Well. As you ask so nicely. Let me see how you intend to do so.”

You take some cushions from the chaise longue in the corner of the room and set them in a line in front of the fireplace, before covering them with the towels you’ve brought. You build up the fire and set the small clay decanter with you by it to warm the contents. Nadia sits on her bed, red eyes light with curiosity. When everything is ready, you turn to her. “Lie face down on the cushions, please.” Colour touches your face – it is impossible not to blush around this woman. “You will…need to disrobe.”

“Oh, will I?” She’s smiling broadly now, and rises to saunter over until she’s level with you. Her fingernails pass lightly over your collarbone, making you shiver. Just a touch, to remind you of who she is. As though you could forget anything about Nadia, and the things she can do to you with just a fingertip. Then she lets her robe fall and settles on the cushions, pulling her hair neatly to one side so you have an uninterrupted view from the nape of her neck to her feet.

You stare probably a little longer than necessary, and a throaty chuckle rises from the Countess before you remember yourself and pick up the decanter. Slowly, you pour a small dribble onto her calf, and she twitches slightly at the sensation. “An oiled massage, is it? How…decadent of you.”

You twist up your courage. “It seemed like a good way to serve you.” You continue pouring, following the line of her leg up and then the path of her spine. Along both arms, and then down the other leg.

“It’s warming. And it is scented - like lavender?”

“I heard that was one of your favourite flowers, so I infused the oil with it.” Nervousness touches you. “Was that wrong?”

“Mmm, no. You are correct.” Nadia breathes in, sinking into the cushions. “You are very attentive to my desires.”

You pour a little oil between your palms, and take her hand, slowly working it with your thumbs. Nadia makes a soft noise, but no other comment. You continue, massaging every finger then her palm, and then start to follow the line of her arm upwards. There is tension, still, clenching the lean muscles that line her, but as you work your hands over her you feel it start to melt away. When you reach her shoulder, you take the other arm and repeat the process, slowly, diligently. Your fingers brush her skin too lightly at one point and she draws in a breath – you apologise and start to work the oil into her upper back.

Nadia is long, and lean, and the oil on her skin gleams in the firelight. You circle your hands, working muscle and skin, downwards, until you reach the base of her spine, when Nadia raises her head and looks over her shoulder as if to say _do you dare?_

Not yet. You bear her moue of disappointment as you snuffle away on your knees, reaching her feet. This is where you start playing with fire.

First every toe. Then the soles. Your fingers press the arch of her foot and a quiet giggle escapes her. Then the ankle, over the tendon at the back, up the calf. More tension here. You spent time coaxing it out, running your fingertips lightly over the skin before pressing. Then the thigh. Your hands move around it, one resting between both legs as you work the oil into the inner thigh, and she squeezes that hand between her legs. You can feel heat, close enough to touch.

You don’t. You move again and go through the whole process with the other leg. Only then do you let your hands move briefly over the rise of her rear, teasing, and she shifts her legs apart a little, inviting you.

“Turn over, please.” The authority of the sentence jars with your tone; your breath catches. Nadia eyes you over her shoulder again.

“And if I were to command you to do otherwise?”

Your fingertips brush the outside of her thighs. “I’d do as my lady desires.” You wait for her decision. After a moment, she chuckles.

“Well. I do want to watch your face as you do this.” You nod and move backwards as Nadia turns over.

You’ve only seen her this way once before; the other times were either too quick and heated to take in much detail, or she remained dressed while she took you apart. The last time was in the bathhouse, when she turned and let you see before inviting you to join her, and you were so flooded with what was happening that you couldn’t commit anything in particular to memory. Now she lies there, in all her naked glory, and you look, and look, until she gently taps your cheek. “Not that I’m not enjoying the admiration, but the fire will not last forever and I have no intention of getting cold.”

“Right.” You pull yourself together, and repeat the same process with the oil as before, but this time you can see her eyes as it hits her skin. Her breath draws in sharply, her teeth catch her lip and her eyelids lower; her back arches a little, raising her chest. Her nipples are already tight and when the oil passes over them, she gasps sharply enough that you almost throw the jug aside and fling yourself at her.

With a willpower you didn’t know you had, you start with the arms again. It’s much the same routine, but now once you’re done with the arms, your fingertips pass over her collarbones, down between her breasts, around, before you draw your fingertips up to the sides, and pause. “Technically…” Nadia’s eyes have closed – now she opens them slightly in question. “I don’t need to massage here. There’s not much muscle.”

“I demand diligence,” Nadia responds, in the tone of voice that makes it clear she knew you were going to do it anyway, but she appreciates the attempt at teasing her. Your hands pass over her, palms brushing the very tips of her nipples, circling around them, then down, up again, taking one each between your thumb and forefinger and rolling them gently until Nadia lets out a whine that sends heat shooting right through you.

It’s time to keep moving. Down over the stomach, the hips. And then back to the feet again, working up on one side, then the other. Nadia’s eyes are sometimes open, watching your path with a smouldering intensity, and sometimes closed. Her mouth opens a little to emit moans, gasps, occasionally a word in a language you don’t know. Your hands are on her thigh again, and the journey is completed – unless she gives the word. You wait there until she raises her head. There is colour in her cheeks and her breath is coming in short bursts. You’ve never seen her like this, so open and so _needy_ , when you weren’t caught in the throes of it yourself. You pass a tongue over your lips so your request doesn’t stutter.

“May I?”

The command probably comes a little quicker than Nadia intended. _“Do it.”_

Your fingers slip into her easily and her hips rise against you as your thumb brushes over her, circling, searching for that one minute place where it really _works_ and you know you’ve found it when her fingers clutch at the towels and she lets out an _“Ohhhhhh…”_ You pulse your fingers in her, watching her rise and fall against the cushions, her usually composed features now expressing need for more, and you give it, a little faster, a little harder, your other hand glides up her belly to pass a thumb over her breast, and she grabs your fingers.

“I-I need your mouth on me…”

You don’t hesitate, shifting down as she rests one long leg over your shoulder, and pass your tongue over her, drawing her in, sucking in a cadence that finally makes that earthy voice rise to a shriek, and her fingers are in your hair, holding you against her as her hips buck and shudder and you keep working your tongue and fingers until she gives one final shiver and goes slack, her voice shaking as she gasps out. “Enough!”

Slowly, you kneel and take in the sight of Nadia, splayed on the floor, chest still rising and falling quickly, the flush on her cheek painted across her chest as well, hair in disarray and wide eyes staring up at you. She grabs your arm and pulls, and you fall forward to accept the deep kiss that she gives you as her final tremors dissipate. She lets you go and her head flops back against the cushions.

For a long moment, there is no sound but your combined breaths.

You are contented; you think this will be a reverse of your usual situation, in which Nadia makes you scream and then coddles you without giving you anything of herself. You did not account for her, and long fingers catch your earlobe – gently, but firmly enough to get your attention, and you look up to find two red eyes burning at you with an expression that instantly brings you back to the moment.

“Disrobe.”

You’re reluctant to leave her warmth, but that doesn’t even cause you to hesitate. There’s no denying Nadia when she speaks like that, and you don’t even want to, anyway. You stand, and remove your clothing quickly, casting it all aside without even looking at where it lands. Nadia is still reclining, although she as propped herself up on her elbow, drinking you in with the same expression you were likely wearing earlier. “Kneel.”

When you do so, she passes you the clay decanter. Not much remains, but there is some oil left, and she nods. “Pour this over yourself.” She stays your hand for a moment. _“Slowly.”_

You’re already so worked up from tending to Nadia that the first droplets landing on your skin make you shudder, and as it rolls over your chest and down your belly you make your own faintly desperate noise. Nadia is still watching you intently. “Work it into your skin.”

You do. It’s a performance, but it’s as much for you as her; as you pass your hands over your chest, sensation pricks so sharply that you squirm. You are _aching_ now and every moment makes it worse, but also better, because the oil has worked just as you hoped and it warms and prickles a little as you apply it, and you think of how this must have felt to Nadia over the long, slow massage you gave her and you have to bite your lip to stop from falling over the edge right here and now. Your hand hesitates at your thigh and she nods, allowing you to slick your hand between your legs, but then her fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Come here.”

There’s no other word for it – you _slide_ up her, almost no friction between your skin and hers, and she claims another kiss from you as she moves her thigh between your legs. You want to move, so desperately, that you whimper, and you know what Nadia wants to hear.

“Please, Nadia… _please_ …”

“You may.” Her breath brushes your ear and you start to roll your hips, grinding yourself against her and _oh_ there’s a little of the friction that you need, enough to give more light to the fire, and you move desperately against her as her fingernails rake up your back. Your chest presses against hers, you can feel her nipples passing under yours, you can feel _everything_ , and Nadia is biting down on your neck and _fuck fuck FUCK_ the fire bursts and shoots up your spine to your brain, enveloping everything in something so intense you can’t even think anymore until you realise you’ve slacked against Nadia, pulling in air as though you’d just been saved from drowning.

A chuckle tickles your ear, and Nadia presses her lips to your temple. “I must admit, this was much needed. You have a little spark about you, don’t you?”

You let out a noise that passes for approval at this statement. Nadia doesn’t tell you to rise. Instead the pair of you remain by the fire for a long time, her fingers combing lightly through your hair. Only when the cold is starting to creep back into the room does she touch your shoulder. “We should get to bed before we take a chill.”

You rise, reluctantly, although you enjoy the bit where you towel each other down to be rid of the last traces of the oil. Nadia slips back into her sleeping robe and you start to gather up your clothes, ready to return to the guest room. Nadia catches your shoulder.

“Wait.” You look up at her. She hesitates for a moment. “I would like you to share my bed tonight.”

So far, the pair of you have avoided actually sleeping together. Nadia has her reputation as the woman avenging her ex-husband’s killer to think of, and there are already voices at court dissenting to her involvement with a common magician. You’ve known this without having to have it spelled out, so you also don’t need telling how important a decision this is. You put your clothing on a chair and follow Nadia over to the bed, slipping into the covers after her. She wraps an arm around you, and trails her fingertips over your cheek, smiling so sweetly it almost breaks your heart.

“My magician. I am so lucky to have you.”

Your face warms a little at the affection. “I’m the lucky one.”

She giggles. “This is a debate we can have another time, my darling. Let’s sleep, now. It’s been a long day.”

You agree, and Nadia wraps herself around you. You sink into the lavender-scented softness of her, and let yourself drift away.

Asra’s advice had been pretty useful, after all.


End file.
